On the slope of the desolate river among | Song Offerings, Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore

On the slope of the desolate river among – is a poem in the Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry collection “Song Offerings” or “Gitanjali” in Bengali. Geetanjali is a remarkable book of verses composed by Rabindranath Tagore (1861-1941), which earned him the Nobel Prize.

 

On the slope of the desolate river among | Song Offerings, Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore

 

It was written originally in Bangla during 1908-1909 and later its English version in prose was published under the title ‘The Song offerings’. It was the first English anthology of Rabindranath published in late 1912 by the India Society of London. On 10 November of the following Year (1913), Rabindranath Tagore was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature for the book Geetanjali.

This recognition introduced Rabindranath worldwide as an exponent of unique poetic talent. Famous Irish poet W B Yeats wrote the introduction of the English version of Geetanjali. Besides, a pencil sketch of the poet drawn by Rothenstain was published in the book. Rabindranath dedicated Geetanjali to WB Yeats.

Serial Number of the song : 64

On the slope of the desolate river among | Song Offerings, Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore
Rabindranath Tagore

On the slope of the desolate river among.

ON THE SLOPE of the desolate river among tall grasses I asked her, ‘Maiden, where do you go shading your lamp with your mantle? My house is all dark and lonesome-lend me your light!’ She raised her dark eyes for a moment and looked at my face through the dusk. ‘I have come to the river,’ she said, ‘to float my lamp on the stream when the daylight wanes in the west’ I stood alone among tall grasses and watched the timid flame of her lamp uselessly drifting in the tide.

In the silence of gathering night I asked her, ‘Maiden, your lights are all lit-then where do you go with your lamp? My house is all dark and lonesome,-lend me your light.’ She raised her dark eyes on my face and stood for a moment doubtful. I have come,’ she said at last, ‘to dedicate my lamp to the sky.’ I stood and watched her light uselessly burning in the void.’

In the moonless gloom of midnight I asked her, ‘Maiden, what is your quest holding the lamp near your heart? My house is all dark and lonesome,-lend me your light.’ She stopped for a minute and thought and gazed at my face in the dark. I have brought my light,’ she said, ‘to join the carnival of lamps.’ I stood and watched her little lamp uselessly lost among lights.

 

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